


I'll cover you

by onotherflights



Series: New York Verse [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Otabek Altin, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Making Love, Masturbation, Otabek is still insecure and it still hurts, Porn with Feelings, Smut, but i promise there's no angst, just feels, let otabek feel 2k17, not really - Freeform, there's a surprising amount of crying, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 12:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11081397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onotherflights/pseuds/onotherflights
Summary: What am I doing?He wiped the steam from the mirror so that he could look at himself. He tried to clear the thoughts clouding his mind.It's him, it's Yuri. What am I afraid of?





	I'll cover you

**Author's Note:**

> well, this is not what i was expecting to finish, but I hit a little writer's block with Almaty's Fire and this has been sitting in my drafts since January when I wrote Start of Everything, and the bitch was not paying rent so she had to go. I did mention on that story that it was supposed to be 10k, well, here's the other, smutty half i finally finished. I like that they're separate though. The working title for this was "the gift", and if the "bottom otabek altin" tag brought you here, you know why. 
> 
> If you don't want to read Start of Everything, all you need to know for this is that they live in New York and Otabek has a lot of trouble asking for things he wants, especially in relationships, because he always puts others in front of himself to a fault.

Sometimes, and not very often, Otabek had a longing. It had been deeply rooted for a while, ever since the first time he had made Yuri lose himself when they had sex.

He wanted to be the one that happened to.

He wanted to lie underneath Yuri’s body and know that the person he loved the most was connected to him in every way. He wanted to know what it felt like when Yuri moved inside of him. He wanted to have that eyes-rolling-back, other-dimension pleasure, if he could.

Explicitly, maybe a bit crudely, he wanted to be the one getting fucked for once.

He could admit that to himself, but he was still working up the courage to talk about it with Yuri. It was the first time he'd ever been so hesitant to want something. He didn't think Yuri would say no, but he worried about it even so.

Maybe that's why he found himself thinking about it again a week later, when he was alone in their bed, touching himself.

Mastrubation wasn't something he did often, it never had been. It seemed kind of pointless to him. Why pleasure himself alone when he could just get off on pleasing someone else?

It was one of the rare times that they were apart for an extended period of time in the past few years. Yuri was visiting home with Viktor, an annual trip they took, just for them to see the respective family that they had left, and then go back to St. Petersburg to see their skating family. Viktor had once called it a “father and son bonding trip” and Yuri had very nearly kicked him in the balls before Japanese Yuuri cut between them and prevented any damage to any essential or beloved parts.

It was a wonderful thing, but it also meant Yuri had been away for a week. He hadn't touched Yuri, hadn't held him close. He'd seen him, talked to him, but being on screen did not compare to the real thing, not even a little bit.

That's why he found himself laying flat on their bed, his hand wrapped around his cock.

It felt weird more than it felt good. He was a grown man and he was jacking off behind his locked bedroom door (even though no one else was there to walk in on him) like a teenager. It was easy to think about Yuri, easy to get hard. He thought it would be easy to get off, but he was becoming impatient. Maybe they were more alike than he thought.

At one point, he huffed and closed his eyes as he lay against the pillow, willing himself to hurry up, so that it could just be over and he would feel better.

When he opened his eyes, he looked at the bedside table to his right. There was a lamp and a picture frame, holding one of those photo booth strips that Yuri liked to take so much. There was also a half empty bottle of lube, and after thinking about it for a few moments, he grabbed it and let two of his fingers drown in the substance.

He knew what to do, how to position a pillow under his hips and fold his knees up, feet flat against the bed. He'd had Yuri like that so many times, but Yuri was across the world then. He hesitated again. What was he so afraid of?

If he was feeling weird before, the tip of his finger at his entrance only amplified the feeling that it was all wrong. He should just wait for Yuri to get back from Russia before even attempting this, he didn't know what he was doing — but.

But then, it started feeling good.

He kept going, one hand around his cock and the other teasing at his hole.

By the time he was finished, he had only managed two fingers and a bite into Yuri’s pillow on the other side of the bed. He felt tears stinging his eyes and quickly rolled over, gathering tissues to distract himself with cleaning up. He was a bit disappointed in himself, but he could worry about that later. He pulled his sweatpants on and left the room, walking only a few feet before laying back down on the sofa, the show he'd been watching on Netflix paused. He pressed play and curled up, and ten minutes passed before he realized he was scowling.

He let his face relax, and Mishka wandered in from her afternoon meal in the kitchen back to the living room. She jumped up onto the sofa, and sat on his chest. He rubbed his thumb softly between her ears and fell asleep.

When he woke up, it was to the sound of his phone ringing and vibrating loudly against the glass coffee table. He startled, not even realizing he'd fallen asleep. Rudely awakened from her own slumber, mishka jumped off the sofa and retreated towards their bedroom.

Quickly, Otabek sat up and reached out for his phone, heart skipping when he saw the contact picture filling up the screen.

_Yuri._

He pressed the green button and raised the phone up to his ear.

“Yuri, hey.” He answered, trying to sound calm.

“You'll never believe what I'm being forced to endure, completely against my will.” It was definitely Yuri, and he was definitely angry, and strangely he was speaking in Kazakh. They usually spoke Russian when they were together, or broken English since they'd been transplanted. Yuri had learned Kazakh over the years, enough to be able to talk to Otabek’s parents whenever they called to check in.

The only reason he'd be speaking it now was if he was with someone and he didn't want them to understand what he was saying. Otabek worried for a brief moment he might actually be in trouble, that or it was just that Yuri was annoyed because he was with Vik-

“The _old man,_ ” Yuri said, confirming Otabek’s suspicions. “I swear, he shops like a suburban housewife back home.”

 _Back home,_ he said. Otabek couldn't help but smile softly at that. Here he was thinking that Yuri had gone back home, but apparently not. Grandpa Plisetsky would turn over in his grave if he had heard his grandson refer to America as “back home”.

“-and I'm just thinking, how the fuck are we going to get a gold-lined clawfoot tub on a plane? Not to mention all the other presents he bought for the new ba —” Yuri stopped mid sentence. “Otabek, are you even listening?”

Otabek was sitting on the sofa with his knees pulled up to his chest, a soft smile forcing the corners of his mouth up.

Yuri didn't need to run up an international call to him to complain about Viktor’s excessive shopping habit, and it wasn't why he called, even though he was complaining right away.

“Yeah, I just miss you.” He answered, and he wasn't ashamed of how gentle his voice sounded.

There was a long pause, as if Yuri had stopped what he was doing and he was fighting off a smile too.

“I'll be home with you soon, Beka.”

 _Home, with you._ He could hold on a bit longer.

“So tell me what other stupid shit Viktor has put you through.” He finally said.

Neither of them cared, but it was just something to talk about that was less depressing than how badly they missed each other.

It was an excuse for Otabek to listen to Yuri’s voice, for as long as he could.

 

  
The days passed in spite of Otabek’s boredom. He did what he always did to distract himself; threw himself into skating, ran three miles a day, and went to the gym for cardio and strength training. If he trained hard, he didn't have time to think too much. He still fell into an empty bed at the end of the night, though.

During times like that, he wondered how he'd spent years dealing with Yuri’s absence from his life. Back then, they were just friends who saw each other sporadically during the season. The most time they would ever spend together was sneaking into each other's hotel rooms and ordering pizza, watching shitty tv and talking until way too late.

And then, on a rainy night in New York of all places, everything had changed.

_It's about damn time_

Yuri had always been quicker than him, always one step ahead.

So maybe, on day thirteen of being without him, Otabek shouldn't have been so surprised.

He was sleeping in their bed, Mishka curled up on Yuri’s pillow next to him. Otabek had his back to her, facing away from the window so that the rays of sunlight creeping in didn't wake him.

He didn't want to wake up, in fact he was having a rather wonderful dream.

In his dream he was laying in bed too, only it was nighttime and he was still awake. He could feel the shape of Yuri pressed securely against his back, one arm thrown over his waist and their legs tangled together. He could smell Yuri, his cologne mixed with the lovely spiced smell of chai on his breath, something Otabek had gotten him addicted to. He could hear his even breaths, right against the shell of his ear. They had always loved being close, practically falling asleep on top of each other, and sometimes literally.

It felt so nice to have the security of feeling Yuri against him again. So nice, so natural, in fact that he started to forget he was dreaming. It felt so real.

He could feel Yuri moving his arm, up to Otabek’s hair so that he could gently weave his fingers into the longer strands.

He started to slip out of the dream, hesitantly. Keeping his eyes closed, he held on to the last bit, to the feeling of Yuri next to him.

That's why, when he opened his eyes and saw the light in the room and still felt the shape of someone against him, he startled.

He immediately turned over, half-worried he'd find a stranger who had broken into their apartment. It would be just his luck, dying naked and defenseless.

Of course, he was always surprised.

“Good morning, Beka.”

Yuri was laying on his side, his head propped up in one hand, elbow resting against the pillow. His hair was pulled back halfway, long blonde strands hitting his shoulders. His lips were curled up in a smirk, green eyes shining. He was there, he was real.

“You're real.” Was all Otabek could think to say, unfortunately aloud, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

Yuri laughed softly, reaching out to push Otabek’s hair back from his face, carding his fingers into it.

“Yeah, Otya, I'm home.”

Otabek couldn't listen to another word, pulling Yuri down to kiss him fully, morning breath be damned. Yuri moaned contently, one hand cradling his face affectionately.

Slowly, Otabek turned over fully, bracing himself on his hands over Yuri. He parted from his lips, opening his eyes to look at the sight underneath him.

Always so beautiful.

“You said two weeks.” He murmured. He had thought he had one more day to endure. He was planning on doing some laps in the pool and falling asleep on the sofa watching Netflix again. His life didn't stop when Yuri wasn't around, it just got really boring. But now, he was lucky if he would even leave their bed that day. It was a much preferred plan.

“Yeah, well, Vitya was too annoying so I came home early.” He answered easily, his thumb rubbing over Otabek's cheek.

The Kazakh man smiled softly, dipping his head again to kiss Yuri, this time on the dip of his collarbone.

“Liar.” He murmured, groaning softly when Yuri tilted his head back, giving him more access to his neck. He kissed him everywhere, soft bites and suckling at his skin like he was addicted. “You had this planned the whole time, you knew if you told me the real day I'd have woken up two hours early and fought traffic to pick you up.”

Yuri chuckled softly, kissing along Otabek’s jaw and cheek wherever he could reach, one hand still tangled in his hair and the other digging his fingertips into the bare skin of Otabek’s back. “See, that's where you're wrong, Beka.”

Otabek pulled away at that, looking at Yuri with suspicious eyes.

“I had guessed at least four hours.” He grinned wickedly.

Otabek groaned and kissed him again, a tangle of arms and wandering hands. It was intoxicating, being together again. The wet slide of Yuri’s tongue, the feeling of his soft skin under Otabek’s calloused hands. His sweet little gasps as a love bite was sucked into the graceful dip of his neck.

It didn't take long for the gentle roll of hips to start, the addiction growing the more they could feel each other.

“Why aren't you naked too?” Otabek growled as he sat up to hastily unzip the olive green bomber jacket Yuri was wearing.

The blonde huffed a laugh, already unbuckling the belt around his black skinny jeans. “Might have been dangerous to distract the pilot.”

Otabek rolled his eyes affectionately, biting into his bottom lip as he helped Yuri peel the tight pants from his legs, revealing the sweet pale skin underneath.

They were kissing again, bodies pressed together, delicious moans spilling into Otabek's mouth as only a thin layer of cotton separated them.

“I missed this.” He confessed.

“Only this?” He smirked against his skin. “Should have stayed the extra day and made you wait, then.”

“No,” Otabek shook his head, meeting Yuri’s eyes as his hand slipped up his stomach to rest over the center of his chest, over his heart. “All of you. I miss everything about you when you're away.”

Yuri’s eyes softened for just a moment as his smile broke through. “Just shut up and kiss me, Altin.”

So, he did. Messy, soft, and perfect kisses.

They kept on like that until Yuri was pushing at his shoulder, rolling over to the nightstand when Otabek sat back on his heels.

He was grabbing the bottle of lube, shoving it into Otabek’s hand as he laid back against the pillows.

He hesitated, sitting there and shifting the bottle from one hand to another like he didn't know what to do with it. He could feel his brows furrowing.

Normally, Yuri would raise his foot and press it against his chest, telling him to hurry it up before hooking his ankle over Otabek’s shoulder. There was no real reason, he just liked to show off his flexibility. He didn't though, just staying silent as he looked up.

“We don't have to, Beka.” Yuri suggested softly, leaning up on his elbows after a few moments of silence.

“No, it's not that, I want to.” he answered quickly.

Yuri reached his hand out and brushed over the creases in Otabek’s forehead until they smoothed over and he was greeted with hopeful brown eyes.

“What is it then, Otya?” Yuri murmured gently.

“I just thought, maybe,” he started nervously. “I was thinking maybe I could lay where you are,”

He paused, looking down to the little blue bottle in his hand. He pressed it into Yuri’s palm. “And you could use this.”

It was Yuri’s turn to furrow his eyebrows, this time in confusion. “On you?”

Otabek nodded slowly. “Is that okay?”

Yuri pushed up from his elbows to his hands, nearly face to face to with Otabek.

“Yeah, it's okay.” He said quietly, serious like they were sharing a secret. “And it's. . . New.” He looked down, tracing the lines of definition on Otabek's stomach with his fingertip. “How long have you wanted this, Beka?”

“A couple months.” He answered instantly, honestly. “It got worse when you left.”

Yuri looked back at him, a little bit of hurt and confusion in his eyes. They had always talked about everything. “Why didn't you tell me you were unhappy, Otabek? If it was something you wanted, anything, I would have said yes.”

Otabek's eyes widened and he quickly cupped Yuri’s cheek in his hand, shaking his head gently. “Yura, I'm not unhappy with anything, I promise you. I - I didn't get bored or anything. Just, curious.”

Yuri’s eyebrows raised. “Curious?”

“Yeah, I,” Otabek paused again, looking away. He didn't know why he was nervous talking about it. They talked about sex all the time. He'd never been nervous to talk about sex in his life.

“I want to know how you feel. . . That place you go. I mean, if I even like it. I know I will because it’s you, but. . . Is that okay?” He repeats again, eyes flitting back up to meet a set of jade.

Only they were brimmed with tears.

“Yuri, why are you crying?” He panicked, reaching for the younger man. Yuri wrapped his arms around Otabek's waist, burying his head in the dip of his shoulder.

“I'm not upset.” He sniffled in contradiction, tears falling on warm skin. “It's just, there's not a selfish bone in your body, Beka. When are you going to ask for the things you want without feeling guilty about it?”

Otabek smiled, gently running his hand down Yuri’s back soothingly. “I asked to kiss you the first time, didn't I?”

Yuri’s body shook softly, with tears and laughter.

“I love you, Beka. So _fucking_ much.” He murmured softly, kissing whatever he could reach until he found his lips again.

When they parted after a few minutes, Otabek wiped the dampness from his cheeks and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“Let me just have a few human minutes, to shower and everything. Stay here.”

Yuri nodded, watching as Otabek crawled out of the bed.

Once he had the door closed behind him, Otabek spent a split second wondering if he should cry, sing, or dance with joy. Instead, he kept what was left of his composure and turned on the shower’s faucet with a hand that was only slightly shaking.

He went about the shower desperately trying to avoid thinking about every little thing he did. He'd never tried to be clean anywhere and everywhere harder in his life, especially not there.

It was after, standing in front of the steamed mirror and brushing his teeth that he felt the weight on his shoulders.

_What am I doing?_

He wiped the steam from the mirror so that he could look at himself. He tried to clear the thoughts clouding his mind.

_It's him, it's Yuri. What am I afraid of?_

His resolve strengthened, he passed the towel through his hair, slicking it back with his hand. He gave himself one last determined nod.

Back in their bedroom, Yuri was laying down on his side with Mishka next to him. As soon as he saw Otabek walking through the door, he gently picked the cat up and set her down on the carpet, where she gave a loud meow of protest before scampering off.

Otabek walked over to the bed, easily crawling back to where he had been, looming over Yuri and leaning down to kiss him. Only instead of holding himself steady, he melted into it. So when Yuri hitched a leg over his hip and flipped their position, he went down without a fight.

Slowly, Yuri pulled away, and otabek blinked his eyes open to look at the sight above him. He'd let his hair down, long blonde hair like a curtain framing his face and strands of it glimmering in the sunlight. It wasn't the first time he'd seen Yuri like this, but it felt more significant somehow.

“You're so beautiful, Beka.” Yuri said softly, rushing in for a kiss before he could say anything or see the pink flush coloring his cheeks. It was funny, he was just about to say the same thing about Yuri. He could hear those words, but he didn't think he would ever see himself the same way that Yuri saw him.

They kissed again while Yuri rolled his hips this time. Otabek's heart was beating far too fast, he'd thought he'd be able to calm down once they were kissing.

He pulled away, his breath shaky.

“Hey,” Yuri said, anchoring him. If he could just keep focus on those strong, green eyes, the feeling would pass. “It's okay to be nervous. I am.”

He offered a soft smile, long fingers carding through his damp hair. “It's a first for me too,” he paused, kissing his forehead just as Otabek had done to him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Otabek nodded slightly, and Yuri sat back on his heels. Otabek's eyes followed his every move as he found the little blue bottle where they had left it on the bed.

“You can put a pillow under your hips, that will help.”

He scrambled to comply, grabbing one of their pillows and positioning it easily below the dip of his back, propping his hips up. By the time he had looked up again, Yuri’s fingers were coated with the liquid. He moved his hand away, leaning over Otabek.

“Hey, eyes up here.” He muttered, and Otabek followed orders. He had no expectations that it wasn't going to be really awkward at first. No matter how in love they were, it was still uncomfortable. Fortunately, Yuri was set on distracting him.

“You're sure you want this, right?”

He'd been nodding so much lately, he may get whiplash. If that wasn't enough, Yuri's next question came as his finger was slowly circling his hole.

“Have you ever done this part?” He wondered aloud. He waited, looking up at Otabek with innocent eyes.

“Yeah,” Otabek said honestly. He wasn't good at white lies, much less so to blondes. “When you were gone.”

“So you -”

“-yeah, here.”

They were on the same page, and Otabek could definitely see in Yuri’s eyes that he was thinking about what he looked like, sprawled out on their bed with his fingers inside himself.

Yuri pressed his finger past the rim, talking to Otabek again so that he was distracted from the awkward feeling.

“How many did you get?”

Otabek tried really hard not to hyper-focus on the slide of Yuri’s finger slipping into him, but he was preoccupied by the feeling despite Yuri’s best efforts. When he had done it to himself, it didn't feel like this. There wasn't a tight ball of energy building in his stomach, his fingertips weren't sparking with the need to touch.

“Barely two.” He answered a few moments later.

Yuri was quiet then, favoring instead to kiss his neck. But even that didn't distract from the feeling of the second digit pressing into him. It didn't feel awful, but it stung just slightly and he tensed.

“Relax, Otya, this won't work if you're closing up on me,” Yuri groaned, biting against his collarbone. “A bit counterproductive.”

Otabek made an effort to do as he was told, spreading his thighs apart further so that they lay flat on the bed and sighing quietly.

It took a few minutes, Yuri concentrating and Otabek staring at the the ceiling. He could feel every tiny movement, every stretch that Yuri’s fingers made.

And then, unexpectedly, it started feeling good again.

Yuri was watching him, and if his teeth peeking through his lips were any indication, he'd noticed the change in his face. He bit his bottom lip and curled his fingers, and a soft moan escaped between Otabek’s lips unintentionally.

“Was that-” he gasped quietly, his voice like gravel.

Yuri smirked pridefully. “You know what that was, Beka.”

Biting his own lip, he pulled Yuri back in to kiss him. He was getting into it, the feeling of Yuri’s fingers. He'd known it was going to feel good, but he couldn't imagine it would be so good so fast. They weren't even halfway through.

He was distracted well enough by then, trying to keep kissing Yuri between broken moans.

When there were three fingers there, Otabek started rolling his hips down, groaning low in his throat at the feeling.

“Are you sure you've never done this before?” Yuri murmured, a soft breath of laughter against his cheek. Otabek only smirked before he rolled his hips down at just the right time, and he moaned even louder.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, not sure if he wanted to chase after the feeling or get away from it. “Yura — stop. I'm ready.”

Trusting that he'd done well enough, Yuri carefully drew his fingers away.

Otabek watched the way he moved, rolling more lube over his cock. His eyes couldn't drift even if he wanted them to, he was hooked. He tried to ignore the feeling of loss, his muscles clenching and his hips burning with the need to push up. He wasn't used to being the one waiting.

“Beka,” Yuri said sharply, pulling him out of his daze. “Keep your eyes up here, okay?”

As if to emphasize his point, Yuri gripped his jawbone and held his face pointing up, making sure he was only looking at Yuri's face above him.

With the care and hesitance he usually reserved for the ice, Yuri funneled all that concentration into pushing into Otabek with as little discomfort as possible. He gasped just slightly when the head of his cock slipped past the tight ring of muscle, leaning in slow.

Otabek was looking up at him, like he'd been told, and feeling every ridge and groove inside himself fill. His mouth hung open, too honed in on the sensations to make a noise. Something was wrong with him, there had to be. There was no way it felt like this for other people. There was no way it could possibly feel so good. Wasn't it supposed to hurt the first time?

If he really focused on the feeling, he would pinpoint a burning sensation as his body was stretching to accommodate an unfamiliar intrusion. Even then, it was only vaguely uncomfortable, and the hurt felt so good.

“Yura,” he whispered breathlessly, not sure what he was calling out for. He watched Yuri’s green eyes rise to meet his, and whatever invisible request he was emitting was granted. Yuri quickly rushed in to kiss him, and Otabek moaned against the press of the familiar slide of their lips.

Feeling Yuri bottom out, his hip bones two distinct points pushing into the backs of his thighs, Otabek took a shaky breath.

“Are you okay?”

The question came not from Yuri, but from Otabek, looking up with concern. Yuri wasn't moving, in fact he was rigid, yet with a subtle shift of his hips Otabek could feel him move. He bit his lip at the feeling. He could get used to this, and they hadn't even started yet.

“Beka, that's my line. This is about you, remember?” Yuri finally responded, his eyes wandering around Otabek’s chest like they didn't know where to land. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” He replied flatly, struggling with his words. Yuri scoffed, clearly not accepting the apt description.

“It's just, tight? I guess? It feels. . . full.” Otabek hasn't always been the best with words, and it's indicative in the way Yuri is trying his best to hold back a grin. He tries harder, furrowing his brows. “It's just. . . There’s a lot of you, Yura.”

Yuri does grin at that, a huff of laughter passing between his lips and he dips to peck Otabek’s bottom lip, and up to the worried crease of his forehead until it fades. “You're bigger than me, you know.”

Distracted, Otabek cupped his face, pulling him back down for another kiss.

“Can you move now, please?” He murmured softly and Yuri nodded, bracing his arms on either side of Otabek’s head.

He'd thought he'd been prepared, but the guttural groan that is drawn out of him when Yuri pulls back is a surprise to the both of them. Yuri stills, worried he’s done something wrong, but Otabek just pushes the small of his back with the heel of his foot, drawing him in again.

Eventually the unrecognized tension in Otabek’s shoulders settles and his head is back against his pillow, the soft arch of his neck matching the same curve in his back. Yuri’s moves at an even pace, finally, steady and strong and deep. Otabek can't believe how deep he can get, until Yuri hits his prostate spot-on and he's crying out, scratching blunt nails into the pale skin of Yuri’s back.

He knows he's getting loud, and he knows the unabashed noises coming from him are affecting Yuri, driving him faster.

“Fuck, Yura.” He whines, and if he wasn't getting fucked he might feel embarrassed about how desperate his voice is getting.

Otabek had always been so even, the calm tide. He'd never crashed upon the shore, or shown the raging storm inside himself, not like Yuri did so effortlessly, with so much control. Now, he couldn't hold it back. He was losing focus quick, his hands scrambling from Yuri’s back to the sheets to his own hair. He didn't know what to do, it was like he wasn't in control of his limbs anymore. All he was good for now was clinging to Yuri, moaning wantonly against his ear as Yuri thrust into him at an increasing pace.

He felt better when Yuri finally noticed his restlessness and pinned his wrists above his head, holding them in one hand and holding his thick thigh up with the other to keep the angle right.

“I'm close.” He warned, helplessly. Yuri looked down at him with an expression that mixed arousal with pity. The way he was holding Otabek against the bed, he wasn't going to move one of his hands to help jack Otabek off, and with his hands pinned above him, Otabek couldn't touch himself. It didn't change the fact that he was so close, already, the stimulation to his prostate causing him to squeeze his eyes shut. If Otabek was going to come untouched, well, that would only be another first for him added to the list.

They were both past the point of trying to be gentle, and Otabek secretly reveled in the fact that maybe he would be sore the next morning. He thought about what it would feel like, the ache of Yuri missing between his legs. The thought of it brought him even closer, the idea that for a short time, a part of Yuri was a part of him.

Soon enough though, all trains of thought flew straight off their tracks. Within the following few minutes, it seemed as If Yuri was actively trying to make him lose his mind. He was hitting the perfect spot inside of him every time, and Otabek was a mess. All his senses were completely dominated by Yuri, and he couldn’t remember a time when he had last felt so many things, all at once.

His orgasm hit faster than he expected, shocking him when he felt the thin substance hit his chest. His eyes jolted open, looking down for a brief moment to watch himself coming before they shut again, listening to Yuri as he grunted desperately from above. He was watching Otabek fall apart in a way he never had before, his mouth hung open in a silent scream and his back arched off the bed. Yuri had to push him down, leaning further over him and pressing his knee to his chest in order to keep from accidentally slipping out, fucking into him roughly, teetering on the edge himself.

In the end, it wasn’t anything Otabek said that pushed him over that edge, rather what he didn’t say. Yuri had let the hand that was pinning Otabek’s hands go in the rush of the moment, and he’d moved his palms to cover his face, to hide the expression of pleasure that was etched over the stoic look his features typically held. His lips were moving, a silent whisper of words Yuri couldn’t read. Was he praying?

Just as soon as Yuri noticed, he stopped, another deep moan pouring from his lips. It cut off oddly though, sharp and higher than could ever be expected to come from Otabek, at least when in the company of anyone except Yuri. _Holy shit,_ Yuri thought, _was he crying?_

“Beka,” Yuri begged, trying to push his hands away from his face himself. “Look at me.”

Otabek finally moved his hands away hesitantly, and sure enough there was water pooling in the corners of his eyes, hot and stinging as he tried to hold them back. Yuri blinked in shock, stilling for a moment. Then Otabek pulled him in, greedy fingers digging into his hair, and crushed a kiss against his lips.

Yuri only broke the kiss to groan against his mouth as his release hit, his hips pressed tight against the backs of Otabek’s thighs, buried deep inside as he came. His toes curled, gripping into the sheets that had been pushed down the bed.

“Yura,” Otabek requested softly, his voice back to it’s normal tone as he repeated the words. “Look at me.”

Yuri did as was asked of him, his green eyes still blown with arousal. The sight that greeted him was agonizingly debauched, Otabek’s hair, resting loose and messy against his forehead, was damp with sweat. His eyelashes were thick and wet, making them more pronounced where they lined brown afterglow eyes. He was flushed from his cheeks to his chest, and looking up at Yuri like it was his full responsibility he was in such a state. Of course, it was.

“Fuck, Beka. You should see yourself.” Yuri murmured, another kiss connecting them, softer now that the moment had passed into something new. “You’re so beautiful.”

“That’s my line, Yura.” He responded fondly, fingers tangled blissfully in blonde hair. Yuri smirked, shaking his head softly and burying his face in the valley of Otabek’s neck.

They stayed that way for a moment, catching their breath, until Yuri carefully pushed himself up, sliding him hips away from Otabek’s. The whine of protest was immediate.

“Sorry, love.” Yuri shushed him quietly, laying on his side and pulling the older man into his arms. Otabek nuzzled against his chest, kissing the center of it. They held each other, soft touches and evening breath the only thing signifying they were still awake. Yuri knew he would have to get up eventually to get a towel to clean them up, force Otabek into sweatpants so he wouldn't complain later of being cold. For now, he couldn't bare to do anything but look at Otabek. He didn't know what the hell he had done in his past life to deserve such a person in the current one.

“Did I really make you cry?” He asked softly, and Otabek huffed a laugh, hiding his eyes under the palm of his hand again, but not his smile. He never hid his smile from Yuri.

“It's embarrassing. I just. . . I didn't expect to react that way. I didn't think it would be. . .” He trailed off, looking at Yuri through the space between his fingers.

“Good? Damn Otya, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Otabek chuckled, his hands falling down to trace lines over Yuri’s hip. “It was better than good, Yura.”

Yuri pressed a kiss to his forehead, as if to smooth over what he was about to say. He knew no matter what way he said it, it wouldn't fully make it through the selfless first-born son filter that lived in Otabek's brain. 

"You don't need to be embarrassed, by the way," Yuri added carefully, unsure if it was even his place to say it. "It's okay to feel pleasure, to lose yourself a little. And I like making you feel good, too." 

Of course, Otabek doesn't have a reply to that. Yuri just held him closer.

They fell into silence again, content just to lie there together. Eventually Yuri huffed and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing and making his way towards the en suite.

Otabek lay boneless, useless on the bed. He looked up at the ceiling, in disbelief and too sated to even think. At least, he couldn't think of anything but one thing in particular.

“Hey, Yura?” He called out, listening to the sound of water coming from the faucet, a towel wringing out.

“Yeah?”

Otabek bit his bottom lip, brushing a hand through his ruined hair. He may have a hard time asking for most things, always quick to consider the other person’s pleasure first. He figures this is a mutual benefit to himself and Yuri alike, so he doesn't feel so guilty, at least not in the afterglow.

“How soon do you think we can do that again?”

**Author's Note:**

> I have mixed feelings about this fic, so comments help majorly! Tell me how to improve or what you would like to see in the future. As always, please be my friend on tumblr @onotherflights because i'm not always awful. Until next time, thank you for reading x


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